An Assassin's Heart, or Lack Thereof
by Charlotte Temples
Summary: An assassin is hired to kill John Constantine and Chas Kramer, but seems to have second thoughts about the job. Probable ConstantineOC
1. New Jobs

I. New Jobs

Ophelia entered the room with the quiet grace and stealth that were her trademark. The man sitting behind the desk wore a pinstripe buisness suit and had slicked back hair. When he looked at her, it was with ill-disguised disgust that made her want to kill him then and there. But he apparently had a business proposition for her. No one called her besides clients, for Ophelia didn't have any friends. She liked it that way.

She plopped down in the leather chair in front of his desk, putting her feet up on the expensive oaken surface just to annoy him. Ophelia wore knee high boots that laced up the side. She took pride in the fact that she could kill a man with a well placed kick in these expensive (and not very comfortable) shoes.

"So how can I help you?" she asked. Her client remained quiet for a moment, studying her, his eyes not lingering on her body as most men's did, but on her face. He seemed to be surveying whether or not she was trustworthy. This was a look she had recieved before from the people she was working for. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he leaned back in his chair with a sigh and spoke.

"I have two monkeys on my back that I'd like you to get rid of," the man informed her. Ophelia was glad to get right down to business. The darkened office had her on the edge, and she didn't want to put off her client by pulling out her knives for protection.

"Naturally. But what's the take?" she asked him.

"Two million. You get both, you get the money."

"And what if I only get one?"

"Then you get nothing."

Most of Ophelia's jobs were like that, especially when there was so much money on the line. She swung her feet off of his desk and stood, looking around his office. She was wearing a black skirt that went to mid-thigh and a tight fitting black v-neck shirt. It was an outfit designed to intimidate, something that Ophelia found was useful in her line of work.

The man's office was decorated with religious art, though not any religious art that Ophelia had seen before. Directly behind him was a picture of what seemed to be Dante's definition of the eighth layer of hell. People were being torn apart by horned demons, dunked into what appeared to be boiling blood and wallowing in excrement. Martha Stewart definitely wasn't this guys interior decorator. Feeling sick, Ophelia looked behind her at the door and realized there was an upside-down cross over it.

"Hey your cross..." she started but the man cut her off.

"Is just the way I like it. Now do you take the job or am I going to have to ask someone else?" he asked her. Apparently he had better things to do. Ophelia tried not to be offended by his abruptness.

"Yeah. Do you have everything I requested?" she asked him, holding out her hands expectantly. The man pulled a thick red folder out of his desk and handed it to her.

"I've got everything you need in here, including contact numbers to reach me if you have problems, and for when you get the job done."

Ophelia carelessly opened the file, not looking at the pictures of her next job in the front. It contained pictures, profiles, sleeping patterns... everything that she'd need to know about these people. Most of the time she would have to do the research herself, but her client wanted the job hurried along, so got everything she needed beforehand.

"This shouldn't take long," Ophelia informed him. She hadn't read anything about, or looked at her new job, but she knew she wouldn't have anything to worry about. She was a professional after all.

"I'm sure it'll be done by the end of the week," he replied, dismissal in his voice. Ophelia straightened, giving him a nod, and left his office without another word. His secretary waved goodbye to her, but Ophelia didn't answer. The woman seemed a little high on something. Probably methamphetamines. God knew she needed it to work for a freak like her newest client.

Ophelia decided to flip open the folder while she was in the empty elevator. A man with dark hair and eyes and very pale skin stared back at her from the picture on the right side. On the left was a kid with a decently innocent face and a black and white driving hat. She didn't like killing kids. Then again this one looked like he was about nineteen or so. He had to have done at least one bad thing in his life that Ophelia could justify his death with.

She was after all, an assassin. It was her job to kill without mercy. Ophelia had a feeling she was going to have a major bout of depression after this job. Maybe she could go on vacation for a while afterwards. To the Bahamas or something. Maybe Hawaii. With these thoughts in her mind, Ophelia left BZR Finance and Brokerage.

John Constantine pounded up the stairs of the apartment building that he had been called to. The elevators were broken and Constantine was seriously regretting the fact that he smoked since he was fifteen years old. He heaved like a out of shape asthmatic kid on the track team and tried to pick up the pace. It figured that these people lived on the top floor of the apartment complex.

"Rapidamente, por favor!" called someone looking down the stairwell. The woman's face was panicked and thin. It looked as if she had seen the devil himself, which was probably very close to the truth. Constantine picked up the pace as she had requested and finally reached the top floor, trying not to fall over and attempt to breathe.

"Alli, alli!" called a little girl down the hallway, pointing to an apartment with its door torn right off of its hinges. The mangled chunk of wood lay farther down the hallway, pieces carved out of it as if whatever was inside of the room had huge claws. Constantine wished he had a cigarette, but restrained himself. The stair episode had taught him even more bad things about smoking, though the lung cancer had ended it altogether.

Constantine stepped inside of the apartment, waiting for something to jump out at him. He didn't see it at first, but when he did he was taken aback. A long-horned demon with claws the length of swords and twice as sharp was halfway trapped in a mirror. As to how the demon got into, or out of the mirror, Constantine wasn't exactly sure, but judging by it's rather unhappy sounding roars, it hurt like hell.

Constantine immediately began chanting in Latin, basically telling the demon that any hopes it had of being free could be stuck where the sun didn't shine. The creature roared in anger and lashed out, catching Constantine across his lower right arm and making him hiss in pain. He didn't stop however, except to get as close to the hulking, angry beast as possible before he whispered to it:

"This is Constantine. John Constantine, asshole. And you're going right back to hell."

He finished his chant, and the demon gave a scream of anguish. The mirror it was trapped in cracked, and Constantine couldn't help but wonder if it would break free. Suddenly, it burst into a thousand black locusts, all humming angrily before they disappeared through the window. The woman that had called to him in the stairwell entered the room, looking thankful.

"Ay, gracias! Muchas gracias, Senor!"

John shook off her thanks and took the bundle of cash she handed him without counting it. He shoved it into the inner pocket of his trench coat before preparing himself to go down the many flights of stairs he had climbed.

"I need a drink," he muttered to himself.


	2. The Theological Society

II. The Theological Society

Ophelia sat on the hotel bed, staring down at the files that her client had given her and sucking on a lollipop. She had just recently given up smoking, and found that only candy could keep her from reaching for her nonexistant pack.

Apparently the pale guy's name was John Constantine and he sounded like a real freak. His mother died giving birth to him, nearly killed his own father using a... Ophelia lifted the paper close to her nose, squinting. It couldn't possible say what she thought it said.

Spell?

"Okay I totally don't believe this crap," she muttered to herself but kept reading. Apparently there had been some sort of suicide attempt when he was a teenager, and he had been dead for seven minutes. Ophelia couldn't imagine having to live with death so young in life. Then again, she had lived with even more. Perhaps she and the newest job had something in common.

Feeling like her client had screwed her over on the information, Ophelia flipped open her cellphone and called one of the contact numbers that was neatly typed on a sheet in the back of the folder. Her client didn't pick up until the eighth ring, and by then Ophelia's impatience with the man had reached its crescendo.

"What the hell is this stuff? Exorcist? Spell-caster? Escaped from hell! You made up total bullshit and put it in this thing, didn't you?" she exclaimed the second she heard the click of his picking up.

"You're obviously not from around here," came her client's snide voice. "If you knew anything about the occult you'd recognize the name of John Constantine. None of that is made up, believe me."

"You're expecting me to believe that this guy... had his lung cancer cured by Satan? Even I would've made up more convincing information about someone. Even his name sounds phony. You know, if you didn't want to tell me much about this guy, you could've just said something and made both of our lives easier."

To Ophelia's annoyance, another click sounded. The one of the client hanging up on her. She tried calling him again several times, then gave up out of annoyance. She was about to just accept what her client had told her when she realized that Constantine didn't have a sleeping pattern. Which meant of course, that Constantine didn't sleep, which was very unlikely.

Ophelia threw the folder on the floor in a brief bout of anger, and climbed off the bed, stretching luxuriously. Her client had gotten her a really great hotel room, and as tempting as the mini bar was, Ophelia was exercising self control. Which meant she needed to leave the room before she started eating five dollar peanuts out of spite. She donned a leather jacket over the clothing that she had worn to meet her new client. Beneath her skirt were concealed two daggers, at the base of her spine was a gun. Two more daggers were concealed on the inside of her boots. Ophelia had truely learned the art of carrying weaponry without notice. She needed it, especially in LA, where cops were always looking for a reason to frisk a pretty girl.

She picked up the folder one last time and decided that she would go to a haunt of Constantine's. Maybe she would catch a glimpse of the man. Unless, of course, this place was as made up as the rest of the file was about him.

The doorman hailed a cab for her outside, which prompted Ophelia to give him her fallen angel's smile. It was one that had nearly spurred a civil war in a Eurasian country. She figured that the old man could use something nice to think about when he returned to his empty apartment later on.

"Where to, miss?" asked the taxi driver.

"The 'Theological Society' please," she replied, spurring a strange look from the man. She certainly wasn't dressed to go there, but Ophelia was bored and up to anything new and strange.

After a relatively short drive, the cab pulled up outside of a very foreboding building that seemed almost out of place in the middle of LA. Ophelia paid him and tipped him nicely before getting out, shivering slightly. It didn't seem like the kind of place she wanted to be in, especially with her profession. Glaring angels looked down upon her and everyone seemed to have the same look upon their face. The 'I know what you do for a living' look. It was one that her former agent used to give her all the time when she objected to something he said. She couldn't help but feel bad that she had killed him for looking at her that way.

Ophelia climbed the stairs and entered the building, which seemed a good deal like a library. At the end of the long central aisle was a huge fireplace with chairs in front of it. The place seemed deserted. Ophelia loitered a little bit, then found herself looking through the book cases at the hundreds of books in languages that she didn't understand. More than once, she heard the creak of floorboards, and knew that it wasn't herself that was making the sound. She finally found a book in Latin and took it off the shelf with the mind to read it. Ophelia had begun learning Latin in third grade: the curse of being a Catholic schoolgirl.

At first glance it looked like a cookbook with a lot of made up ingredients in it, but once Ophelia really began reading it, she realized it was something else. It seemed to be ways to summon up demons. She found herself immersed in reading the rituals when someone cleared their throat making her jump and flinch for her knives. She blushed when she realized that a priest was standing before her, looking confused.

"I'm sorry I scared you," the priest said. His voice was comforting, but with a tone of power in it that made Ophelia respect him. He was the kind of priest that could scare away any demons this book conjured up. Ophelia closed the book and put it in its proper place before turning to him.

"I'm sorry... should I not be here?" she asked him.

"Oh no, there's no problem with you being here, it's just strange that you know how to read Latin. Most girls at your age only speak Spanish or French as a second language.

"I had a very strict school," she admitted. "Father, may I ask you a few questions?"

"Of course, will you join me at the fireplace? It's much more comfortable then in this drafty aisle," the priest suggested, gesturing to the armchairs in front of the fire. Ophelia nodded and followed him there, settling in a thickly padded chair. "Now, how may I help you?"

"Well you see Father, I've been rather curious about this man lately, and I would like to get to know the real him a little better, and I figure that you're the best person to talk to," she told the priest, who seemed to understand.

"It's so nice to see that at your age you are still interested in learning about Christ," the man told her with a smile.

"Oh no, no, no Father. It isn't about Him. It's about a man that comes here sometimes. Perhaps you'll recognize his name... John Constantine?"

The priest's attitude towards her seemed completely changed and he leaned back in his chair, looking pensive. A long period of silence followed in which Ophelia continuously fidgeted and questioned her reasoning for coming here. Finally, the man broke the silence.

"Constantine... I haven't seen hide nor hair of him since the Mammon incident..." he muttered, as if to himself. Ophelia tried not to grow impatient.

"But what can you tell me about him?" she asked him.

"He's a man both cursed and blessed with a gift given to few. The gift of sight."

"Sight as in seeing? I'm pretty sure a lot of people can see, father."

"No, see in a different way. Constantine can see the angels and demons amongst us, and he has a gift that none have been able to accomplish, though not for lack of trying."

"What gift is this?" Ophelia asked, finding herself interested.

"The gift to go in and out of hell as he pleases. Something not even the powerful Satan can achieve. It makes him a thorn in the side of a lot of people."

Ophelia's eyes widened. So her client hadn't been lying. She needed to start trusting the people she was working for more often. Behind her, the door to the Theological Society opened and someone stepped in. The priest looked up with something near shock, then back at Ophelia. She didn't turn around. She didn't want to know who was standing in the doorway, because she knew that the moment she found out, she was going to have to rethink her plan.

"You stay here, child. I'll attend to his matters and get him on his way. Then you may leave," the priest told her, looking at her with a warning in his eyes. Ophelia had a feeling that he knew what she did for a living and that he didn't want any sort of confrontation in this building.

The first thing Constantine noticed when he walked in was the fact that there was someone else there. For a moment he thought it could be Gabriel, but quickly remembered that Gabriel wouldn't set foot in here after he was made human. Whoever it was, they were completely hidden from him, their back to the door.

Father Anthony stood from the footstool he had sat on in front of the armchair that the other person was settled in, whispering something to them before approaching Constantine.

"H-how may I help you, John?" the priest asked, looking nervously behind him.

"Someone bothering you?" Constantine asked, trying to see the person in the chair, but the priest stepped in his way.

"N-no bother at all. How can I help you?"

"This afternoon I found a demon that had partially made it into this world," Constantine told the priest, who looked confused.

"What do you mean 'partially'?" Father Anthony asked him incredulously.

"Half-in, half-out of a mirror. I wanted to ask you about it before I head over to Midnite's. You ever hear about something like that?" Constantine asked. Behind the priest, a pair of boots appeared over the arm of the chair. He found himself momentarily distracted with curiosity.

"Well in old folklore they used to cover mirrors with black cloths after a person died so they wouldn't be trapped in the mirror forever, but I've never heard of a demon being trapped in one. Sounds like something strange is up," the priest replied thoughtfully. "I'll look into it more for you, but I can't think of anything like that off the top of my head."

"Alright, thanks Father," Constantine said and turned as if to go to the door. Father Anthony turned away from him in relief, going back to where the woman was sitting in the armchair. Constantine opened the door to the Theological Society, but allowed it to close, remaining inside. He ducked into the shadows where he was certain no one would see him.

"Was that him?" came a woman's voice. It was quiet, but with a strangely icy undertone, a businesswoman's voice. Constantine crept forward, still in shadow.

"It was. May I ask who you are?" the priest asked.

"Who I am? My brother says it best:

'Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself,

She turns to favor, and to prettiness.'"

Constantine recognized the quote from somewhere, but couldn't remember what he remembered it from. Suddenly, the woman stood, revealing herself in the flickering light of the fire. Pale brown hair fell in loose tendrils from a ponytail, framing her face. Her clothing was black and easy to move in, as it fit her like a second skin.

"Is something the matter?" Father Anthony asked her, sounding worried, or frightened perhaps.

"There's someone else in here. I can hear them breathing," the woman replied in a cautious whisper. Constantine remained quiet. He wasn't breathing heavily, he knew it for a fact, but it seemed that she was staring in his general direction. Her eyes were a pale grey, without a speckle in them. Constantine stepped deeper into the shadows, hopefully out of sight.

The woman was upon him so quickly that Constantine didn't have time to defend himself. Dagger drawn, she attacked him, her heels soundless on the wooden floor. The woman flew at him, tackling him to the ground with a strength that surprised him. Knees pinning his arms to the ground, the girl strattled him, holding her sharp blade to his neck.

"How long have you been here?" she demanded, her voice still quiet and cold. Constantine failed to be impressed however. His legs were still free.

Gathering stamina from the initial adrenaline rush, he kicked up, surprising the girl who was forced onto her back by his legs. This time he was strattling her, legs pinning hers, stretching her arms above her head so she couldn't stab him.

For a moment, he couldn't act, just staring in surprise at the girl, who struggled against his grip. She was too strong to just be a tough girl from the wrong side of LA, she had to have been trained by someone. The thought made him worry a little.

Someone cleared their throat and both Constantine and the girl stopped their struggle in order to look up at Father Anthony who was looking at them worriedly.

"Constantine, get off of the girl," the priest said. Constantine looked at him defiantly.

"She tried to stab me!" he exclaimed.

"Do you promise not to stab John if he lets you go?" Father Anthony asked the girl, who had started squirming again, trying to take advantage of the distraction. Her struggling was to no avail, however, and she gave up momentarily.

"Ugh, fine. I won't stab him if he lets me go... right now," she replied. Constantine wasn't sure in which context she was using right now. Did she mean let her go right now? Or she wasn't going to stab him right now? Nevertheless, Constantine stood, followed by the girl, who didn't accept his offered hand, and tucked her dagger back into her boot.

"You go sit in the corner," Father Anthony said to the girl, who begrudgingly did as she was told. "And YOU Constantine. Go home."

"But..."

"Just leave, Constantine. The last thing I need is a murder in this building, alright? Now go."

Feeling like a teenager sent to his room, Constantine left the building angrily.

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Just so you guys know, the quote is from Act 4, Scene 5 of Hamlet by William Shakespeare. I'm not going to pretend I can write that well.


	3. An Attack of Sorts

III. An Attack of Sorts

"It seems someone is very unhappy with you, Constantine," Midnite told him from across the desk in his office.

"Does that ever change?" Constantine retorted sarcastically.

"No, not really. No one likes you anyway, so I guess it's nothing to cry over. But this guy, whoever he is, is serious," Midnite replied.

"How serious?"

"Serious enough to hire one of the best assassins out there, and to shell out two million dollars to have you and Chas killed. And whoever this guy is, he knows a lot about you. I wouldn't be telling you any of this, as I am neutral, but I suppose I don't want to see my favorite human get screwed over by one of Satan's pets."

"Favorite, huh? You know, I always had my suspicions... hey Midnite, you read a lot, right?" Constantine asked, ready to give up on his search for who the girl he met in the Theological Society was.

"Yeah. Why?"

" ' Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, she turns to favor, and to prettiness.' I heard this woman say it when asked who she was... I recognize it but I don't know from what."

"It's from Hamlet. Ophelia's brother says it about her," Midnite replied after a moment of thought.

"So that's her name?"

"Yes, but thats all I can tell you on the topic. That and watch your back."

Constantine stood with a sigh. Midnite hadn't offered any information about the demon that he had found in the mirror, except to tell him, as always, that he was 'neutral'. Constantine was starting to have his suspicions that Midnite only said this when he didn't know what was going on. He walked out of his office, pushing past people grinding on the dance floor and exited the place, sickened by all of the half breeds.

Chas waited outside in the taxi, as usual. It had been a miracle that he had survived the Mammon incident, but he had been rushed to the hospital and after a week or so in the ICU, was as good as new. Right now, he looked irritated at the fact that he had been left behind once again to read and fidget and listen to bad music on the radio. Constantine knew that at some point he would give in to the boy's endless whining, but until then...

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" Chas asked as Constantine got in, looking worried.

"Why would you say that?" Constantine replied sarcastically.

"The look on your face. I only see that when we're about to get absolutely screwed," Chas answered. "So what is it?"

"Someone's put a hit on us."

"Us? As in both of us? As in me and you?"

"Yes Chas, me and you."

Chas rested his forehead against the steering wheel in annoyance.

"But why? What have I done to deserve this?" he demanded. "I mean, I can understand someone going after you, you've managed to irritate both sides endlessly with your antics. But why me?"

"Because you help him," came a cool-as-ice voice from the passenger seat of the car. The door was wide open and Constantine realized that the woman had entered while they were speaking. She held a gun in her hands. It was aimed at Chas, but Constantine had a feeling that she could whip around and shoot him in a moment.

"Hello Ophelia," Constantine greeted her. She slammed the car door, ignoring him.

"Take us to the bowling alley," she commanded Chas, who looked scared.

"Why are you doing this? Why don't you just shoot us and get it over with?" Constantine demanded angrily.

"No! Don't shoot us!" Chas yelped.

"I won't. Not yet at least. I want to find out more about what you two are doing," Ophelia replied, placing her gun in her lap.

"Why? What are you, a spy?" Constantine asked.

"Nope, just an assassin. And curious."

They drove in silence for a while, Chas parking outside of the still lit up 'Bowl Bowl Bowl' sign. Ophelia picked her gun off her lap and pointed it at Chas, giving him a hard look.

"Get out of the car first. You make any sudden moves to run or to yell for help and I'll shoot you in the face, got it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Y-y-yes ma'am," Chas stuttered out. Constantine wasn't used to Chas looking so petrified, and found himself taken aback by the sheer power eminating from the woman. Chas obediently got out of the cab and stood near the hood. Ophelia turned her gun on Constantine, and still pointing it at him, got out of the car without tearing her eyes away from his. She opened the door for him and Constantine got out of the cab, not breaking the stare.

"Who hired you?" he asked, but Ophelia didn't answer. Instead, she beckoned him on. Constantine turned his back on her, confident she wouldn't shoot him until she learned more about him, and led her towards the front doors of the bowling alley.

"J-john... should I be worried?" Chas asked. He was shaking slightly, and casting suspicious glances at Ophelia, who was watching their every movement.

"Probably," Constantine replied. "Just do what she says and we'll probably be okay."

"Probably! What do you mean probably!" Chas exclaimed.

"Alright, that's enough talking!" Ophelia interrupted them. "Open the doors, Constantine."

"Yes ma'am," Constantine replied, pulling a key ring out of his pocket. He unlocked the doors, and together the three stepped into the dark building. Ophelia seemed on the edge, and Constantine realized that they were not the only people... rather, beings, in the building. She seemed to sense it too, as did Chas, though neither had the sight.

"Who else is here?" she asked him in a whisper. It wasn't frightened, but angry, as if he had sabotaged her.

"I don't know who," Constantine replied sincerely. "Or what."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

With a steady hand, Constantine turned on the lights. Ophelia let out a barely surpressed gasp, and Chas hid behind her. At first sight, it appeared to be a woman, but in all reality it wasn't. It had mottled blue grey skin, a gaping hole of a mouth that sharp teeth stuck out of in strange angles and on top of its head, straight from Greek legend, were hundreds of hissing and angry looking snakes. They stared at it with gaping mouths. It stared right back with gaping, empty, eye sockets.

"Um... Constantine?" came Ophelia's voice, which now sounded rather perturbed. "What is that?"

"That's... that's a demon, Ophelia," Constantine replied, his voice strong, though his knees were starting to feel rather weak. The demon let out a loud roar that filled the room. A putrid stink seemed to come off of its body and Chas pulled his tee-shirt over his face.

Suddenly, the demon took them totally unprepared and rushed at them, still roaring. Constantine dove in one direction, and Ophelia tackled Chas into the opposite direction. The two skittered across the tile floors and into a ball rack, but were unharmed. Constantine had dove behind the register.

The demon completely ignored him, to his surprise, and turned to Ophelia and Chas, who were cowering against the ball rack, cornered. Ophelia rose, easily two feet shorter than the demon, trying to look tough. A silver blade glittered in her hand and the carelessly threw it across the room just as Constantine was standing. It barely missed his head. Was she still on the job despite the fact that she was being cornered by something from the underworld?

Constantine realized his presumption was incorrect as the demon was temporarily distracted, it's eyeless head following the flight of the dagger. Ophelia pushed Chas out of the way.

"Run!" she shouted to the teen, who immediately made towards the door that led to the hall behind the bowling lanes. Ophelia pulled out another blade and threw herself at the demon, intent on stabbing it. She bounced off of the thing's chest as if she were nothing and hit the wall hard.

The demon was still advancing on the dazed looking Ophelia, who had sunk to the floor. It picked her up with one hand, roared right in her face and tossed her across the room. The assassin slid down one of the bowling lanes and came to a halt right in front of the pins. She gave a groan of pain and attempted to rise, falling back onto the floor in pain.

Constantine, getting a hold of himself, lept over the counter and ran straight at the demon, which was heading towards Ophelia once again. With a flying tackle, he managed to floor the demon and removed a cross from his pocket.

"Et seperatur a plasmate tuo, Ut num quam laedatur amorsu antiqui serpentes," he began chanting. The demon was screaming in pain, the flesh under the cross beginning to burn and peel away. Constantine continued chanting until the creature stopped moving underneath him. Figuring that it was going to get up and try to kill him, he stood, tucking the cross into his pocket. "Yeah, that's what I thought, asshole," he muttered, kicking it.

Ophelia was still on the floor, attempting to rise with a gasp of pain. Her ribs were probably broken from the impact and Constantine had no doubt the assassin would wake up with one hell of a bruise in the morning. He approached her, doubtful that she could kill him in such a state.

"That... that was..." she barely managed to get out before falling back onto her stomach painfully.

"A demon, yes," Constantine replied.

"But they aren't..."

"Supposed to be here, I know. Can you stand?"

"On my own? No."

Suddenly, the demon flew up, screaming in rage. Ophelia flipped herself onto her back and fired her gun, which she had been holding the whole time. The demon fell back down and disintegrated into ash. Constantine couldn't help but be surprised. Human weaponry usually couldn't kill anything from the other planes of existence.

"So are you going to kill me, Mr. Constantine?" Ophelia asked, as if she had not just shot and killed a demon.

"You probably would deserve it, but no I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to help you up to my apartment," he replied, looking down at her with a slight grin on his face. Without even trying, he had won. The assassin, at least at the moment, was completely powerless against him. He dropped to one knee on the floor and put her arm around his neck. Constantine carefully helped her stand, and led her to the doorway that Chas had fled through. He was on the other side, looking at the assassin doubtfully.

"I dunno if you should be doing this, John," Chas said.

"What's the worst that can happen?" Ophelia asked.

"Well, you could shoot me in my sleep," suggested Constantine.

"Well, yeah... but besides that?" she replied, still sounding winded, like she had been punched in the stomach very hard. Ophelia did, however, have a slight smile on her face. Constantine wondered momentarily if she had gone insane from what she had witnessed, but didn't bother asking. It was probably better not to know.

"That demon was after you, assassin. There could be more of them coming, so I'd behave if I were you," Constantine told the woman, who looked rather shocked and angry.

"Why would they come after me? I haven't done anything to piss them off."

"God only knows," Constantine replied truthfully.

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A/N- To all of you who reviewed, thank you so much for your comments, I really appreciated them, and I hope you enjoyed this newest installment.


	4. Ophelia's Trip

IV.

Ophelia watched as Constantine stared at the array of weaponry that she had placed on the dining room table at his request. She knew that her ability to hide so many weapons on her body probably surprised the exorcist, who examined each blade and gun with an air of expertise. His apprentice, Chas, was in the kitchen making coffee for everyone and Ophelia sat at the opposite end of the table, clutching her ribs and trying not to gasp with pain. She knew she had to have broken at least four ribs when the demon threw her into the bowling lane. The pain was bearable, but pain nonetheless.

"How do you, uh, take your coffee?" asked Chas, leaning out of the tiny cove that was the kitchen.

"Lots and lots of sugar," she replied. Ophelia was the kind of person who wasn't satisfied until her spoon stood straight up in the coffee cup. Constantine broke his gaze from the weapons on the table finally and looked at her appraisingly. Ophelia had a feeling that this man meant trouble, no matter how defenseless her client made him seem.

"How are your ribs?" Constantine asked her. Ophelia carefully made her face devoid of any emotion. She didn't want these people to know whether or not she felt pain. It made her feel weak, and that was the last thing she wanted. She did, however, want to wrap her ribs so they would heal correctly.

"They'll be fine. Do you have any medical tape or something I can use?" she asked. For a moment, Ophelia had a feeling that Constantine would deny her, but instead he grabbed a first aid kit from on top of the refrigerator and dug through it. He pulled out a roll of tape and tossed it to her.

"The bathroom's over there. There aren't any windows so don't even think about escaping," Constantine warned her, and Ophelia nodded. He helped her into the bathroom, closing the door behind her and Ophelia removed her shirt, examining her ribs in the mirror.

Bruises lined her sides and back, and there was another forming on her cheek where it hit the hard floor of the bowling alley. Other than the bruising and broken ribs, however, Ophelia was undamaged. She leaned against the porcelain sink heavily, feeling as if she were going to fall over. The damaged ribs made it painful to stand straight up, but Ophelia attempted to hide her discomfort. She carefully wrapped her ribs, limped to the doorway (alas her beloved boots had made her hurt her ankle), and Constantine carefully helped her back into the chair at the dining room table.

It was starting to become painfully clear to Ophelia that she was going to have a problem when it came to getting out of this place. The apartment wasn't very wide, but it was long and that was her supreme disadvantage. Constantine would see her going to the doorway from any room in the place. Feeling trapped, she sipped the coffee the teen handed her and stared at Constantine, who glared right back at her.

"Who hired you?" he asked, and Ophelia began to wonder if maybe they had spiked her coffee or something. The two couldn't be so stupid as to think that she would tell them anything freely? It was her job to keep secrets.

"I dunno," she replied with a shrug. Constantine looked supremely annoyed and Ophelia surpressed a smile. It would do her some good to see the man squirm.

"I think you do," he replied confidently, settling back in his chair. He had removed his trench coat and rolled up the sleeves of his Oxford, revealing strange tattoos on his lower arms.

"Well you think wrong, now don't you?" Ophelia replied, speaking as if she were explaining something to an exceptionally slow kindergarten student. "Do you really think my clients would tell me who they are? If I get caught I could rat them out easily, and they don't want that."

Constantine looked as if he hadn't considered that before, and Ophelia tried not to laugh at him. The man had no idea what he was doing. There was a moment of silence, and Ophelia looked over to Chas, whose hands were shaking as he lifted his coffee cup. He eyed her nervously and she gave him a wicked half smile. The teen turned away slightly, his eyes still wide.

"So what are you two? Lovers?" she asked, looking between Chas and Constantine. Chas spat out his coffee all over the table. Constantine looked like he might stab her.

"No," he hissed angrily.

"Well, I didn't think so. Chas is a little too young for you. Is he a Robin to your Batman or something?" she questioned. Once, Ophelia had been captured by members of the Russian mafia and set free the next day. This was because she asked so many questions and got so annoying that they let her free, afraid that she might find out too much about them.

"In a way..." Chas replied this time.

"You know, I always thought it was kind of sketchy that a creepy guy like Bruce Wayne would live all alone in a big mansion with a little kid like Robin, don't you?"

"Well, actually, if you read the comic books..." Chas started, but Constantine cut him off.

"That's enough," he said, pushing his coffee away discontentedly. He stood and grabbed a glass and a bottle of whiskey from a cupboard, pouring himself a few fingers and gulping it down like it was the elixir of life.

"You know, that stuff isn't good for you," Ophelia chastised him. In all reality, she drank too, but she felt that if she were annoying enough, perhaps Constantine wouldn't want to keep her. Or maybe he would just kill her, she wasn't sure. "It'll ruin your liver."

Constantine slammed his glass down on the table, hard. There was a splitting sound, and a fine line webbed up the glass, cracking it. Ophelia smiled slightly. She had pushed him to the breaking point. Perhaps she had gone a little too far with the child molester jokes, though.

Constantine stood and came towards her. He wasn't holding a weapon, but Ophelia had a feeling that perhaps he didn't need one. If this man was what the file on him said he was, then he could kill a person with a few words. Ophelia pushed her chair away from the table, trying to back away from him, but not quickly enough. Constantine grabbed her left arm that was resting on the arm of the chair and pulled her to her feet, twisting it painfully behind her back.

"So you want to learn about me? You want to see what I see?" he demanded and Ophelia looked him square in the eye. She didn't blink, but she nodded. She wanted to know. "Fine!" he shouted and lifted her off of her feet, swinging her over his shoulder and carrying her into the bathroom.

"What are you doing!" she demanded, trying to hit him. "Let me down! Let go!"

Constantine's shoulder was pressing painfully into one of her ribs and Ophelia gasped in pain. She could hear him turning the knobs on his bath tub and the sound of water spraying out of the faucet filled the room. He set her down none too gently on the floor next to the tub. Chas rushed into the room behind them, trying to stop Constantine from whatever he was doing.

"Come on, John! You just got this tub. Do you really want to ruin it?" he pleaded. Ophelia had no idea what was going on, but she had a feeling that it wasn't going to work to her advantage. Constantine roughly pulled her up by the front of her shirt and Ophelia had a feeling that she was getting more than she bargained for.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, trying not to sound scared, though she had a feeling that she failed in that aspect.

"I'm going to show you what I see. Are you Catholic, Ophelia?" he asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Then you know where murderers like you go, right?"

"The River of Phlegethon in the seventh layer of hell," she replied and found herself amused at the surprised look on Constantine's face. It was a part of her job that she read a lot. Sometimes she would have to wait weeks, even months, before she could kill a target, and she would need reading material. _The Divine Comedy _had always seemed befitting to her job. It was the first time, however, that Ophelia had actually placed herself in a part of hell, but upon reflection she realized that the burning river of blood was exactly where she was going when she died.

"Exactly," he replied, and she watched his face soften slightly as he thought about it. It seemed that he was pitying her in a way. But a moment later, Ophelia realized that he wasn't.

Upon his command, she kneeled on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, wondering what was going on, and a moment later, her entire torso was plunged in the freezing cold water he had filled the bath tub with. Realizing that Constantine was trying to drown her, Ophelia struggled against him, pushing away from the bottom of the bathtub and trying to release his hold on her. However, Ophelia was starting to feel her limbs go heavy. She hadn't had a chance to inhale before he plunged her in the icy water, and she was starting to be affected by it. Ophelia's head began pounding with ever heart beat and her vision was beginning to get dark around the corners.

Suddenly, it felt as if the world was tipping and Ophelia wondered for a moment if she had plunged through the bottom of the bathtub by some miracle. She opened her eyes and realized that she was no longer in John Constantine's bathroom, but zooming along eternity. For a moment, she wondered if she was high on something; but realized that she had in fact died.

There seemed to be another presence with her, one that was warm and glowing, and Ophelia reached out for it, but felt it move away from her as she zoomed along. A strange fear gripped her heart and suddenly she began to see things, though she was only allowed a few moments to see each sight. It seemed as if she were falling down an unending pit and suddenly paused for a moment to see each ledge.

On the first, there was basically nothing but several people sitting around and looking bored, but not unhappy. Just as Ophelia was about to call out to them she was pushed by the force to the second level, where people were caught in wind, battered about by each other and debris. They called out to her, but Ophelia realized that they weren't speaking any language that she understood. In fact, it sounded as if they were speaking backwards. Once again, she was pulled down to another level which looked like a garbage dump. Freezing rain pelted naked people who tried to escape and in the distance she heard several dogs bark.

In the fourth, people pushed boulders endlessly, crashing into one another. In the fifth, there was a dank marsh, where people ripped each other apart. The sixth layer greeted her in screams of agony and pain. Birds with human heads flew over her head, and Ophelia realized the screams were coming from the ground, where people were laying in tombs of iron that were heated to white hot. She could feel the heat from the void she was floating in, and for a moment pitied them before she reached a layer that she was the most familiar with.

Through her whole venture, Ophelia had a feeling as to where she was, though she wasn't quite certain. But once she reached the seventh layer of the deep chasm she knew she was in hell. There was the burning river of Phlegethon, the wood of suicides, and the burning sands. More than once, Ophelia recognized someone that shared her profession in the river, screaming in agony as their flesh burnt. Men who she had once believed to be the strongest in the world were shrieking and crying like children.

Suddenly, Ophelia felt as if another presence was with her, and a rather giddy, hissing voice whispered into her ear.

"Welcome home, Ophelia," the voice told her. She turned in mid-air and found herself facing a man in a white suit. He stared at her with wide, emotionless eyes, then offered her a smile. "So good to see you, come on in."

The force that had guided Ophelia to the seventh layer of hell pushed her towards Lucifer, who took her arm like an eager child and led her to the burning river. She could see her agent (the one she had killed for looking at her funny) watching her from the burning hot blood, and she had a feeling that if the blood didn't hurt enough, he would make sure that he could make it worse.

A strange feeling curled in her stomach, as if someone was yanking at her center of gravity, just behind her naval. She touched her stomach, confused. Lucifer turned to look at her, and she saw the look clearly written on his face as well. He obviously had no idea what was going on. Before she could question the Prince of Darkness, the feeling behind her naval gave an even greater yank and Ophelia felt herself fly right out of the chasm she had fallen into.

All around her was rushing water and pieces of bath tub flying everywhere. Ophelia flew through the air, knocking over John Constantine. It had only been a second since she stopped struggling, but she had been in hell for what felt like an eternity. She was soaked in cold water, and steam rose off of her clothes and skin.

"Are you okay?" came Constantine's voice. He looked more than concerned.

"What... what did you do to me?" she demanded, her voice hoarse and pained.

"I... I think I might have done something wrong..." Constantine started, looking at her with furrowed eyebrows. His gaze rested on her arm, where the cloth of her shirt had been burnt away. Ophelia looked down and realized that Lucifer's handprint had been burnt into her flesh. "I think you went a little deeper than I intended."

"A little... a little what?" she sputtered, breathing heavily, trying to rid herself of the stench of burning flesh and sulphur.

"Too deep into hell, I think," Constantine replied, reaching out for her. "Are you sure you're..."

He was cut off by Ophelia's fist flying through the air and catching him right in the face. Constantine fell back and Ophelia somehow managed to stand, feeling as if her legs were made of jelly. She was shaking badly, though she wasn't cold. Chas grabbed her arm as she stalked past him and out of the bathroomm.

"Let me go!" she screamed and pushed him away. She grabbed her knives and gun and raced out of the apartment, fighting the urge to fall to her knees and never get up again. The moment she got out of the bowling alley, she threw up on the side walk, then hailed a cab.

"What the hell did you do to me, Constantine?" she muttered to herself as she watched the bowling alley disappear behind her.

"Are you okay, lady?" asked the cab driver, who looked rather frightened.

"I don't know..." she replied, "but I think I may be out of a job."

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A/N:

**Not You-** Thanks for pointing that out! I fixed that right after I read your review.

**Chances-** Thanks for telling me about my little minute mishap lol. I had already seen the whole Chas/ halfbreed thing, but decided not to use it, thanks for caring though :-)

Everyone else- Thanks for your reviews, you guys have been really really great.


	5. The Client

V. The Client

Ophelia woke up the next morning and promptly ran to the bathroom to throw up. She had been doing so periodically since her voyage into hell, and she had a feeling that she would continue doing so, despite the fact that she hadn't eaten anything. She felt like she had the world's worst hangover and had been hit by a truck. Ophelia rested her head on the corner of the cold bath tub before standing, flushing the toilet and brushing her teeth.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she knew that nothing about her had changed. She still had pale brown hair without a strand of grey or white; her eyes were still grey. Overall her trip to hell hadn't made much of an impact upon her appearance-wise. Ophelia popped a few aspirin and a pepto bismol before she grabbed a lollipop from her suitcase and settled down on her bed, trying to figure out what to do. She could continue with her job, or tell her client to keep his money, go home and get a much needed CAT scan.

There was a knock upon her hotel room door and Ophelia got up to answer it, wearing only a wife beater and a pair of short Rainbow Brite boxers. Coupled with the striped toe socks, braided hair, and lollipop, she looked like an innocent school girl. This look didn't stop her from grabbing her gun off of her bedside table before she opened the door, hiding it behind her back. She opened the door a little before recognizing her client and letting him in. He was wearing a pinstripe suit and to Ophelia's horror a polka dot tie. When were men going to realize they couldn't wear two patterns together?

Mentally shaking her head at his fashion faux pas, Ophelia watched the man sit in one of the chairs at the tiny table. She took the opposite one, feeling nervous about having her back to the door. Her client seemed different somehow. He seemed to be radiating something that made her instantly dislike him. It wasn't something she had sensed when she had first met him, and she was surprised by the change.

"How can I help you?" she asked, surprised.

"I heard you were attacked by a demon of some sort yesterday," her client offered, giving her a smug smile that she wanted to punch off of his face. Ophelia didn't betray her surprise, but instead looked at him with questioning eyes. "I have contacts higher up on the grape vine."

"Oh really? Been keeping a close eye on me, have you?" she replied with a smirk, crossing her legs. Somehow, in this rather human situation, her client seemed less human to her. In fact, it appeared like his eyes were glowing red in this light. Ophelia blinked once or twice, but the red glow did not subside or disappear.

"In a way, yes. I don't like to allow my projects to run around unattended to," he replied.

"Well, I'm fine. So glad you cared. You can go now." He was starting to make Ophelia nervous and she wanted to get the man out of her hotel room as soon as possible.

"I will be going in a moment. You aren't having second thought about this job, are you Ophelia?" he asked her, giving her an all-knowing smile. Ophelia had given that smile once or twice before and hated seeing it on his face.

"I have a question for you, I was hoping you could answer for me," she replied, ignoring his question.

"Go ahead."

"What does a stock broker have against an exorcist and his chauffeur?"

"Oh, so very much. He screwed up a grand plan of mine and I want to get him back for it," he replied in a smooth voice. "So you aren't going to drop out of this job, Ophelia?"

"We'll see. I want to get a feeling for the territory. This Constantine seems a little more valuable than I thought. Maybe too valuable to kill, if you get my drift."

Her client seemed perturbed by this, but leaned back in his seat calmly, examining her. Ophelia felt herself grow more and more nervous as the man stared at her, the sneer on his face growing wider and wider. She tried not to show her discomfort, but was pretty sure she was failing miserably.

"Something's changed about you, but I'm not sure what," her client informed her. "Like you've seen something that no human's should be able to see." With this, the man leaned forward, examining her even closer. "I think I know what it is though."

Suddenly, her client kissed her and Ophelia thought she was going to throw up. She bit down on his lip and pushed him away, pointing her gun at him. He stared at her with a wide grin on his face.

"You taste like sulphur..." he wondered out loud. He stood, his gaze not breaking away from Ophelia. "Why, of course... Mr. Constantine doesn't know what he's getting into, now does he?"

Blood dribbled down his chin where she had bitten him, but her client seemed unaware of it. He seemed rather bemused as he stared at her. Suddenly, he flew at her, pushing Ophelia against the wall, making her drop her gun out of surprise. He was only an inch from her face, and was squeezing it between his thumb and forefinger. He looked her straight in the eye, his eyes glowing even brighter than before.

"You tell Constantine that Balthazar is back. Can you remember that, human?" he asked her, and Ophelia nodded, her eyes betraying her fear. "Good girl. We'll find a use for you yet."

He stepped back and Ophelia punched him as hard as she could. His flesh gave way beneath her hand like tissue paper and beneath it, Ophelia saw her client's, Balthazar's, true form. The demon glared at her for a moment before leaving the room. He left the strong stench of sulfur behind him. Ophelia crumpled to the floor, feeling like a used rag doll.

She needed to find Constantine.

John Constantine popped another piece of gum and kept flipping through the pages of the book he was going through. He had spent the entire night chewing nicotine gum and reading book after book, trying to figure out what he had done. Chas had spent most of the night with him, reading as well, but had left in the early morning hours to catch some shut eye before he went to work. It seemed no matter what he read, John wasn't going to find what he wanted. There was no viable explination as to why the barrier between the living world and hell had become so weak. It was the only way that full-fledged demons could leave hell and humans could enter so deeply into it.

He would have gone looking for Ophelia if he hadn't been so caught up in research. He couldn't imagine the kind of things that she had seen by now and Constantine vaguely wondered if she would go insane from it. Sometimes it felt like it would happen to him, and he hadn't gone even close to as deeply into hell as Ophelia had. From what he could guess, she had gotten a tour up to the seventh level, where she belonged. He slammed the large, old book shut in contempt of the irritating assassin and watched a cloud of dust launch into the air.

"Damn you, why do you have to be so difficult?" he asked no one in particular, though he had a feeling that it applied to all of the beings in question: God, Lucifer and Ophelia. For some reason he kept thinking about her and wondering where she was and if she was okay. Constantine was beginning to think he had made a rather major mistake by giving Ophelia the sight. Then again, he wasn't even certain that it had worked. Angela had reacted to it almost immediately, after all. All Ophelia had done was look absolutely terrified and punch him. Maybe he had just given her a tour of hell and pulled her right back out.

Suddenly, his phone rang loudly in the quiet apartment, making Constantine jump. He leaned back in his chair and grabbed the annoying thing off of its reciever on the wall, holding it to his ear.

"Uh, hello?" he asked, curious as to who would call him. Despite the many girls he had picked up over the years, Constantine very rarely was called by anybody.

"Constantine?" it was Ophelia, she sounded shaken up.

"What is it?" he asked, curious as to why the person who had been hired to kill him would call him.

"Meet me at the cafe a block down from your house in fifteen minutes. You have some explaining to do," she replied. The line went dead as she hung up. Constantine sighed and hung up as well.

Casting a glance at the books still waiting to be read, he decided that he needed to get out of the apartment, even if it was just to meet up with his potential killer. He needed to take a quick shower first. He turned to look at his new bathtub, now lying in pieces on the bathroom floor. It figured. He could take a shower, of course, but his landlord was going to be pissed about the flooding. Constantine sighed. Nothing seemed to be going his way lately.

Ever since she left her hotel room, Ophelia had become more and more convinced that she was going completely insane. She kept seeing people with wings and people who looked like they were demons. Strange, winged things were scratching at the windows of the cab she took to the cafe, and when her taxi driver turned to get paid, his eyes glowed red. It wasn't a good day for her overall. All this, and she was still vomiting periodically.

She sat in the corner of the outdoor cafe, trying not to look at anything around her, because she wasn't certain anymore what was real and what wasn't. The paranoia was getting so bad, in fact, that she had nearly screamed when Constantine suddenly sat down in the seat across from her.

Ophelia was wearing a pair of leather pants with a matching jacket and a dark red tanktop. The jacket was swung across the back of her chair, and she tried to keep a look of nonchalance as Constantine stared at her in silence for a moment. She knew that she was pale, and she was also still wearing her red lensed sunglasses because she wanted to hide the fact that her eyes were darting everywhere waiting for something new and more frightening to appear.

"What did you do to!" she demanded in an angry whisper. Constantine looked at her for a moment before leaning across the table. She leaned across as well to hear him speak.

"Listen, assassin, you said you wanted to see what I see. Normally I wouldn't do this to anyone, but you happened to get me in a bad mood, alright?" he replied. He sounded irritated with her, though he wasn't the one having severe hallucinations.

"So you drugged me and tried to drown me!" she exclaimed, then realizing people were staring, she lowered her voice.

"I didn't drug you," Constantine replied, infuriatingly calm.

"Then what did you do to me?" she asked. "Because my client is starting to look a little like a cheap Freddy Kreuger knock off and I'm having a really bad trip, if you know what I mean."

"You aren't tripping on anything, Ophelia. You're seeing _them_."

"And who's them?" she demanded, angry. They were interrupted by a rather confused looking waiter who asked for their orders. Constantine ordered breakfast and a coffee, Ophelia got a cappuccino.

"Alright, this might take a bit of an explanation," Constantine answered once the young woman left to place their order. "And I don't expect you to believe me, but just listen, okay? Humans are born capable of all sorts of evil and good things, right? Well, God and the Devil decided to place these _things_ on earth that nudge us in the right direction. I call them halfbreeds. There are good ones and bad ones, blah, blah, blah."

"So that thing in the bowling alley was a halfbreed?" Ophelia asked, trying to figure out what Constantine was telling her.

"No, that was a full fledged demon. They aren't supposed to be able to cross over onto our plane, neither are full fledged angels. It's just the way it is. But recently, there have been a lot of demons breaking the rules. And I have a feeling that your client has something to do with it."

"But what does all this have to do with what I'm seeing?"

"By putting you in hell and pulling you back out, I've given you the same abilities as me. The ability to see all of the things that most humans can't. It's not an easy thing, and I'm really not sure why I did it, but I did and you're stuck with it."

"Are you telling me I'm going to be seeing this stuff for the rest of my life!" she exclaimed loudly. Once again, everyone in the cafe was staring at them. "Rehearsing for an audition," she answered their questioning looks with a small smile and a laugh. The other diners looked relieved and returned to their food and drinks.

Their waitress returned and placed their drinks on the table with shaking hands. Ophelia lowered her sunglasses, getting a good look at the woman. She saw the red glow before John did and grabbed the waitress' wrist.

"What are you so scared about, halfbreed?" she demanded, and saw the strangely proud look that Constantine was giving her.

"The mark," the demon woman replied pointing to Ophelia's bare arm. She had completely forgotten about Lucifer's hand print that was scorched into her arm and hadn't bothered to cover it. "You have seen _him_ with your own eyes, human."

"Leave," Constantine commanded the halfbreed who immediately did so, looking back at the pair once with suspicious eyes. Ophelia leaned forward after taking a sip of her cappucino.

"Listen, I don't know about you, but I wanna get the hell out of dodge. I think I'll go nuts if I stay here too much longer," she informed him, and throwing a five dollar bill on the table, stood to leave.

"It's no different anywhere else, Ophelia," Constantine told her as she reached for her coat. "They're everywhere. But if you help me, we may be able to considerably lesten the number."

Ophelia sat back down. Now she was interested.

"How can we do that?" she asked him.

"Well to start off, you're going to have to tell me what your clients name is," he replied, looking as if he didn't think she would say it. Suddenly, Ophelia remembered what the man had told her in the hotel room.

"He told me... he told me to tell you that Balthazar is back," she replied, though the phrase had no real meaning to her. Constantine, however, seemed floored. He sat back in his seat and gaped at her for a moment. "What?"

"If Balthazar is responsible for this, we might have to worry about someone worse," he told her and rose, donning his trench coat.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To see Midnite," he replied as he left. Ophelia ran after him, throwing on her leather jacket.

"I want to come."

"You can stay in the car."


	6. Neutral Territory Open Game

VI. Neutral Territory and then Open Game

_Men_, thought Ophelia as she drummed her fingers on the dashboard of the taxi. _Stay here; stay there; you might hurt yourself; you can't handle it. What morons. Ugh, if the kid wasn't here right now I would just walk right in there and knock him on the side of his head. What's so important about this damn club, anyway? There's all halfbreeds in there. _

"So... uh... you come here often?" Chas' voice interrupted her reverie, and Ophelia turned to him.

"Are you testing pick up lines on me?" she demanded, irritated.

"No... well, maybe. I don't know. It's so nice to have someone here besides me. It gets a little creepy talking to myself all the time," he replied awkwardly with an innocent shrug.

"You do that too? Thank God I killed my psychiatrist, he was trying to pass me off as crazy," Ophelia commented. Bored and annoyed, she slammed her hands on the dashboard. "That's it, I'm relating with a kid, I'm going in there."

She opened the car door, and ignoring Chas' calls, entered Papa Midnite's. A huge muscular bouncer stood at the bottom of a flight of stairs, and Ophelia eyed him, wondering if she could take him out if she needed to. The room was stuffy, and Ophelia removed her leather jacket. Beyond, she could hear the sound of loud music, conversation, and what sounded like the squealing of a pig.

"Um... hi?" she tried on the bouncer who replied only by picking up what looked like a tarot card and holding it up with the back facing her. "Why... why are you doing that?"

"You have to guess what's on the other side," came Chas' voice and she realized that he had followed her into the club. He stood next to her, hands in pockets, looking almost hopeful. Ophelia glanced at the card and got an idea. She sat down on the bottom step and looked up at the man holding the card. It was now angled that the light shined through the card and she could see the image on the other side.

"Is that... a swan kissing... a toad?" she asked, having difficulty interpreting the picture. The bouncer nodded and unhooked the velvet rope that blocked her from the club. Chas looked at her hopefully. "Um, he's with me."

The bouncer nodded, and the two crossed the velvet rope.

"That was cool, thanks," Chas said, looking around suspiciously. Ophelia stopped him before they entered the main part of the club.

"Stay near me, okay? If you don't and I leave, then it's your ass," she warned him, and the teen gulped and nodded. Together, they crossed the threshold and were hit by the loud music. The room was very dimly lit, but Ophelia could see their glowing eyes nonetheless. "What is this place?"

"Neutral territory," Chas whispered in her ear. "Both angel and demon halfbreeds reside here. They can't hurt us because it's not allowed, but..."

"But once we leave the club we're free game," she finished his sentence. "I guess we better behave."

A large group of people gyrated on the dance floor, and the sheer mass of halfbreeds surprised Ophelia. She had no idea there would be so many. Chas was looking at some of the more scantily clad female halfbreeds, but Ophelia pulled him away before he could ask them if they came there often. She had no idea who exactly they were looking for, so she searched the room for Constantine's pale face.

"In the back," Chas told her, and pulled her towards the far wall from the entrance. Suddenly a startlingly familiar scent filled Ophelia's nose. The scent of sulphur and fire. Drawing a silver dagger, she whipped around and found herself facing one of the half breeds.

"You're human," he stated, sounding surprised. "I advise you put the dagger away before you get in trouble."

Ophelia nodded, seeing his point and sheathed the dagger without another word.

"You may be wondering why I was surprised you were human," the halfbreed started, moving closer to Ophelia, who could've guessed the next thing he was going to say. "Because you look like a fallen angel."

"Oh my God," she muttered. "You're a product of divine influence and that's the best pick up line you can come up with? My grandfather picked up women with better lines than that one. I'll give it to you that it works considering the circumstances in which we met, but honestly, do you really pride yourself in such a horrible line? I mean, that one could quite possibly be worse than 'I lost my phone number, can I have yours'. If you keep trying to pick girls up with _that _one, then you're going to be a very lonely, lonely man. How 'bout you make your way back to the bar, drink another shot, and then go home, because I think you just rendered every girl in the room incapable of becoming interested in anything beyond a full night's sleep with that 'winner'."

Looking extremely disappointed and irritated, the halfbreed made his way back to the bar as she had commanded. Chas was gaping at her in surprise.

"You really hate pickup lines, don't you?" he asked.

"More than Jehovah's Witness," she replied nonchalantly and continued pushing her way through the room to the back.

_The door's concealed_, Ophelia realized.

"There's a code or something like that," Chas informed Ophelia, who was getting increasingly irritated. Finally, she just kicked the wall as hard as she could.

"John Constantine you are going to let me in here right now or I'm carving your name into everyone in this room's carcus!" she shouted. The door swung open after a moment of thought, and Ophelia dragged Chas into Papa Midnite's office with her.

Constantine sat in front of a desk, looking back at her with irritation clearly writ on his face, but Ophelia wasn't paying attention to him. She was looking at the man behind the desk. At first glance, he was a tall African man with a velvet suit and a hat covering his shaved head. But an intense wisdom, the wisdom of the ages, seemed to radiate from his very flesh. She immediately respected the man, though she had never met before in her life.

"This is neutral territory, young lady," Midnite told her, looking at her not in anger but in curiousity. "There will be no carving up of halfbreeds here."

"Hey, it got me in, didn't it?" she asked and the man nodded. He seemed to be surveying her trustworthiness, just as Balthazar had done. Ophelia stood there in silence for a moment and glanced around the room. It seemed to be filled with all sorts of ancient artifacts. Perhaps Midnite was a collector.

"I thought I told you to stay in the car," came Constantine's voice.

"I was getting restless," she replied and pulled over a chair to sit next to him across from Midnite. Chas stationed himself behind her, staring at Midnite with poorly disguised awe. "So has he told you everything you need to know yet?"

"No. He's starting on that neutral bullshit again," Constantine replied. Ophelia found herself surprised that he would speak in such a way in front of a man like Midnite, but he didn't seem to respect authority so she didn't say anything.

"You have to understand Ophelia, this is basically the last neutral territory there is, and I want to uphold it. By helping him out, I'm leaning towards one side, and I'd be going against my own rules," Midnite explained to her.

"Can't you just bend them a little for us? It's really important," she asked, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "The scales are being tipped. You don't want that, now do you? You can maintain the balance by tipping them more on our side."

"And whose side are you on? You're here with Constantine, but you have the brand of Satan on your arm, and you tried to kill him yesterday."

"Well you know how every once in a while, you have a really bad day? Well multiply that by a katrillion and you get how yesterday was for me. Believe me, you'd be attempting to kill people too," Ophelia replied light heartedly. She was tempted to put her leather jacket on and cover up the brand on her arm, but it was too warm to do so. "Jeez, did your air conditioning break?"

Constantine, Chas and Midnite were all wearing jackets. And they glanced at her for a moment before continuing in their arguement as to why Midnite should tell them what he knew. Ophelia, meanwhile, felt as if she was in Death Valley in a winter coat. Feeling as if the leather pants had been a horrible mistake, she stood and began pacing, trying to calm herself. She was starting to feel dizzy and sick to her stomach.

"Are you okay?" Chas asked her quietly.

"Yeah... I'm just anxious to get out of here. Those halfbreeds are making me nervous," she replied.

"Listen, I don't even know exactly what's going on okay, Constantine," she heard Midnite say, and focused her attention on him. "The scales _are_ being tipped, I know. That alone can cause a fluctuation in the borders between earth, heaven and hell. But for it to be as violently as you claim it is, then it means that there's more than just a tipping of the scales. It would have to be that one side is just knocking the whole thing over. Maybe working on an interplanar jump, if you know what I mean."

"I for one, don't know what you mean," Ophelia volunteered. Everyone else in the room seemed to know what was going on, and she immediately felt like the kid in elementary school that was a little slower than the rest.

"Heaven, hell, and earth are all on different planes of existence. Like alternate universes. Hell in itself is made up of ten different universes. The surface, which mirrors earth's surface except destroyed and wracked by winds that tears anything in it apart; and then the nine layers of hell, which are nine seperate universes. No one on earth knows how many universes make up heaven, though there are probably ten, like hell. I don't find it strange that mankind would know more about hell than heaven," Midnite informed her. "Especially not in this day and age."

"So you're telling us that one side is tipping the scales to weaken the borders and pull something through?" Constantine asked, but Midnite shrugged.

"I'm not telling you anything, I'm neutral," he reminded Constantine. Constantine sighed and popped a piece of Nicorette in his mouth and chewing angrily, left the room. Saying goodbye to Midnite, Chas and Ophelia followed him.

Constantine absorbed this new information as he made his way through the club, Ophelia hot on his heels, dragging Chas behind her. How exactly were they tipping scales? Were there more demon halfbreeds then angels now? Or was God losing the bet he had with Lucifer? It was entirely possible, especially when Constantine thought about how the world was these days. The bouncer let them leave the club and he pounded up the stairs. Chas caught up with him, but before they reached the door, Constantine realized that Ophelia had considerably slowed.

She was visibly warm, and when he took her hand to help her up the last set of stairs, it felt as if his own had caught fire. They stopped in front of the doorway and he took a good look at her. She was breathing heavily and her entire body seemed to be going limp.

"Are you okay?" he asked and Ophelia looked up at him.

"I dunno. I feel weird. I'm probably just coming down with something, a bad flu. No big deal," she replied, though her eyes were shining brightly with worry. "I'll be fine."

Constantine chose to believe her, though he couldn't help but doubt her words, and still holding her hand, led her outside. It was dark, and Constantine realized that the nearby streetlights had been burnt out, leaving the area in pitch blackness.

"In the car, now," he commanded, pushing Ophelia ahead. He could hear the sound of fluttering wings, and he was starting to feel as if they had been followed to Midnite's. Ophelia and Chas heard it is as well, and both halted in mid-step.

"What is that?" she asked Constantine, her face pale.

"Something we don't want to run into. Get in the car," he replied and Ophelia tugged at the doorhandle of the taxi desperately.

"It's locked," she replied, and Chas hit the keyless entry button on his keys. Nothing happened. Ophelia moved to John's door and tried opening it. It didn't even budge. "Oh shit."

"Get back into Midnite's! Go!" Constantine told her and Chas, and Ophelia was about to take off, when she was suddenly picked up by a soaring shadow. As the winged demon lifted her, it and its bretheren began to glow vibrantly, and Constantine and Chas watched in horror as the screaming assassin was attacked by the demons, all fluttering around her like angered birds.

Just as suddenly as the attack had begun, it ended, and she was dropped from the sky. There was a loud click as the doors to the cab unlocked simultaneously. The assassin lay still farther down the street, a crumpled heap upon the road. The streetlights flickered to life and Constantine ran to the prone form, silently praying she was still alive. He knelt on the street next to her and turned the girl over. Ophelia was covered in deep gashes from the demons' talons, and was surrounded by a pool of blood.

"Come on, be alive, Ophelia. Wake up. You're just hurt, come on. You can't be dead," he muttered to Ophelia's unmoving body. She shuddered slightly and her eyes opened blearily. She tried to move, but Constantine took her hand, stopping her. "Don't move, you'll just hurt yourself worse. Chas, back up the car, we'll put her in the back!"

"Sure, John," came Chas' scared sounding voice. The taxi roared to life behind Constantine. Ophelia shivered and Constantine gathered her up in his arms, holding her closely to him. For some reason his heart was flooded with something he was unfamiliar with: _fear_. Though what exactly the fear was for was uncertain to him, he knew that he had some kind of attachment to the girl dying in his arms.

Carefully, he lifted Ophelia from the ground and laid her into the backseat of Chas' taxi. After a moment of hesitation, he climbed into the back as well, resting her head on his lap.

"It hurts, John," he heard her whisper as they road off into the night.


	7. The Waiting Room

VII. The Waiting Room

Constantine and Chas sat in the waiting room of the hospital, anxious to hear the news of their newfound friend. People naturally stayed away from the blood-stained, gaunt figure and the quiet, sniffling teen, so they were able to sit by themselves in that corner. The doctors hadn't come to see them yet, and Constantine and Chas had no idea if Ophelia would survive the night.

Over and over, Constantine replayed the scene in his head. Ophelia surrounded by winged demons who ripped and tore at her, and dropped her on the ground like a used doll. Blood pouring out of gaping wounds, the glisten of bone beneath. Harsh gasps of breath as Ophelia struggled to breathe. Constantine had seen a lot of strange and impressionable things in his life, but this would stay with him quite possibly forever. For some reason, fear gripped his heart. But fear for what? Fear for Ophelia's life?

"J-john?" came Chas' voice. For the past three hours in the waiting room, he hadn't said a thing, and Constantine was surprised that he would start talking now. "Do you think she'll be okay?"

Constantine had been fearing the answer to this question for a long while now, because he honestly didn't think so. Though the assassin was naturally tough, he doubted that anyone, no matter how strong they were, could survive the massacre that had befallen her. He sighed, hands covering his face and brushing through his hair.

"I don't think so, Chas," he replied truthfully. He had learned his lesson long ago. Always tell the truth when it came to these things, no matter what. The last thing he wanted to do was get Chas' hopes up. It would just be setting him up for a harder landing when the doctor came out.

"Maybe Papa Midnite can do something..." Chas muttered. "He's a witch doctor...he'd know what to do."

"I doubt it Chas. I doubt he'd do anything if we begged him. Ophelia's going to die. It's just the way it is," Constantine replied in a dull, emotionless voice. On the inside, however, he was screaming. How was he supposed to believe that the smart-ass assassin wouldn't be around to bug him anymore? For some reason the loss tore at his insides and left him weak, but restless.

"How can you say something like that, John?" Chas asked. His eyes were glistening with anger. "How can you just not care about anything? It's your fault that she's going to die. And you aren't even willing to try to find a way to help her."

With this, his apprentice/ chauffeur left the waiting room. Constantine wouldn't be surprised if the teen just went outside for a little while for some fresh air. In the opposite corner, a woman held a crying baby, with two younger kids chasing each other around a coffee table covered in dated magazines. She stared at him, not with fear, but curiosity. She wouldn't be the first married woman to find interest in the dark and mysterious Constantine, but he pretended she wasn't there. Her kids were annoying enough, the last thing he wanted was a flirting mother on his hands as well. However, when he saw the shining cellophane of a new pack of cigarettes sticking out of her purse, he couldn't help himself. He really needed one. Even if it was just one.

"Hey, can I bum one?" he asked, approaching her. The woman smiled, acting as if she were a teenager rather than a woman with three extremely loud children.

"Sure," she replied and opened the pack, handing Constantine a cigarette. "What's your name?"

Constantine didn't answer. Cigarette in hand he headed out of the waiting room and into the cool night air. Chas was sitting on a stone wall, staring at his hands despondently, and Constantine sat next to him, lighting the cigarette, but not inhaling from it. Chas looked up at him and Constantine tried to find something to say to comfort the boy, but couldn't think of anything.

"I don't know why this is bothering me so much," he confessed, and Chas looked up at him in curiosity.

"What is bothering you so much?" Chas asked.

"The idea that Ophelia's going to die in there. It's hard to believe, and I'm not sure why. It might just be because it's my fault that she's going to die a horrible and painful death, I don't know. Maybe there's something about her... no that can't be it. I mean she tried to kill me, but I sent her to hell. Maybe she's just going to even the playing field by dying and making it worse for me. Or maybe the fact she's going to hell for all eternity is what really bothers me."

"Excuse me, are you John Constantine?" asked a nurse who had just come through the automatic doors of the hospital. Constantine nodded. "The doctor would like to speak with you. Follow me."

Constantine hopped off of the wall, and Chas followed. The cigarette that he didn't even have a chance to smoke was dropped to the sidewalk and crushed beneath one of his shoes in an instant. The nurse led them through half of the hospital until they finally made it to the ICU. Outside of the room that Ophelia was in, a doctor with a grey moustache and brown hair that was clearly dyed, waited for them, examining a clip board with furrowed eyebrows.

"Are these the girl's relations?" the doctor asked and the nurse nodded. She promptly left, looking nervous. Constantine didn't blame her. The place reeked of death. "Hello I'm Dr. White. I've been attending to your wife."

When Constantine had registered Ophelia, it had been as Ophelia Constantine since he didn't know her real name, birthdate or address. He had figured it would be too suspicious if he brought in a girl that he didn't know anything about.

"How is she?" he asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

"Right now, Ophelia is in critical condition. She lost a great deal of blood. Many of the gashes that she had pierced organs. I'm sorry, Mr. Constantine, but I doubt that your wife will be with us much longer. That's why we called you in. We figured you and your son would like to spend some time with her before she passes on," Dr. White told him. Constantine was infuriated with the matter-of-fact way that he put it. Hadn't this man ever heard of finesse? Couldn't he have slowly brought the idea upon them rather than rushed it? How disgusting.

"I see..." Constantine muttered, trying to maintain control. He wanted to punch the doctor, to beat him until he was in as bad a condition as Ophelia. Next to him, Chas' face was turned to the ground, a hand covering his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but how old is your son?" the doctor asked, looking at Chas curiously. Constantine had to give him credit, it was easy to tell that there was no way that Chas was young enough to be Ophelia's son. She could only be in her twenties, and Chas was nineteen.

"He's not my son, he's Ophelia's brother," Constantine replied in irritation. "Can we go in and see her now?"

"Oh yes, of course," Dr. White replied, as if he had forgotten all about the dying woman in the room next to them. Constantine and Chas entered the dark room, lit only by glowing monitors around the white sheeted bed. Ophelia lay unmoving, breathing heavily. Dr. White didn't follow them into the room, but allowed them privacy, something that Constantine appreciated.

He and Chas pulled up chairs next to Ophelia's bed and she stirred slightly with the sound. Constantine was surprised that her senses were still so in tunes, considering what happened to her. The stitches made her look like a well used rag doll, or a beautiful version of Frankenstein's monster. In fact, Constantine wouldn't be surprised if the thread was the only thing keeping her together.

"John? Chas?" Ophelia's voice was weak and hoarse. It sounded as if she were doped up on a lot of pain killers, which she definitely needed. Constantine found himself unable to answer her all of the sudden, so Chas did.

"We're here," he told her. "How are you feeling?"

"Not so great," she replied. Constantine took her hand, still finding himself mute. A lump grew in his throat, choking him. He struggled to control it, but the feeling wouldn't go away. Ophelia grasped his warm hand with her cold one weakly, but gave him a reassuring squeeze nonetheless.

"They must've emptied their stores for me, I've been hallucinating a little. I'm glad you guys are here now. I was worried you wouldn't come."

"We wouldn't do that to you," Chas reassured her. He looked close to tears. Constantine wasn't surprised. Ophelia was the first person who didn't treat Chas like a cab driver. Probably because she remembered being a teenager better than Constantine did. There was no doubt that Chas would actually form an attachment to her.

"I-I'm sorry I tried to kill you," she apologized. The fact that she was apologizing to people on her death bed made Constantine's heart drop. "I wasn't going to go through with it anyway."

"Don't be. It's just a job right? We all do stupid shit sometimes," Chas replied. Constantine had yet to say anything, still struggling with the lump in his throat and the feeling of his heart being crushed. Ophelia seemed to understand, however, and gave his hand another reassuring, albeit weaker, squeeze.

"You guys are going to keep going with the case right? You aren't just going to give up, right?" she asked. This time, Chas looked to Constantine for the answer.

"We're going to find out what's going on and stop it," Constantine replied, his voice soft. He wasn't used to actually feeling emotion for another person, and it was starting to get to him. Perhaps he needed to give up the insensitive asshole thing for a little while. "I promise."

"Good."

She was becoming visibly weaker as they sat with her in silence. Her face was white, and covered in a sheen of sweat, her grip on Constantine's hand becoming weaker and weaker until she was barely holding his hand at all. Constantine maintained his grip, however, and watched as the young woman faded away faster and faster.

"We're going to find out who did this to you, Ophelia. And we're going to kill them," Constantine vowed and Ophelia gave him a weak smile, though her eyes betrayed that she wasn't quite there anymore.

"Come here, John," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Constantine rose and moved closer to her, his face close to her own. Ophelia's weak breath tickled his face for a moment before she spoke, her voice so quiet that only he could hear her. "He visited me, John. And I'm not going to die, goddammit. I'm coming back. I'll come back for you, and I'll stop all of this, just for you."

Suddenly, Ophelia slumped in the hospital bed, her eyes closing, her head turning to the side. Constantine didn't need the loud warning beep of the heart machine to tell him that the assassin was dead. Chas stood as well, and they both said goodbye to her body, now lifeless and doll-like as her soul departed. For a moment, Constantine could feel her flit around the room like a wandering ghost, touching both Chas and himself before leaving them.

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A/N: Sorry I totally forgot to put this in the last one, I was having a blonde moment.

Thanks so much to all of my reviewers and readers! You guys are great, and I hope you're enjoying this story.

**Thewlis- **lol you win that is the worst pick-up line I've ever heard. And your review still remains my favorite. What a great way to keep people writing lol.

**Morrigan Valerious-** I kept thinking about that movie while I was writing that part. I was tempted to actually say something about it, but I decided not to.

**chelsea08-** Thanks:-D


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